


You're Cute When You're Unconscious

by OsirisApollo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fanart, Feels, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsirisApollo/pseuds/OsirisApollo
Summary: Dean is not really accustomed to waking up with someone in his bed... but he could get used to it.





	You're Cute When You're Unconscious

**Author's Note:**

> I can't resist a fic challenge based on Valentine's fluff! I wasn't going to do it, but then [ Cryptomoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon) offered to do art and there was no going back! So here's a short one for the holiday!  
> Also, visit [Cryptomoon's Tumblr page](cryptomoon.tumblr.com) and check out some of her other art!

 

Waking up next to Castiel was kind of a new experience. They’d been together long enough that the feeling of someone laying next to him no longer disturbed his sleep, but not so long that the novelty had worn off.

Dean could feel the heat of the other body in his bed before he was even conscious, and as he blinked his eyes open he was faced with a familiar expanse of tanned skin that made his heart swell. The sight pulled a smile from his lips. No, the novelty hadn’t worn off at all.

Unable to stop himself, he reached forward to run his hand softly down the curve of Castiel’s spine. Dean wasn’t trying to wake him, but the urge to touch was overwhelming, and Dean had never been one for fighting his urges.

He began to gently trace the musculature on display. Dean let his hand wander from the height of Castiel’s shoulder to the dip right before the sheet covered the swell of his rear.

The skin was smooth, of course. It was the skin of a man that had been housing an angel for nearly a decade. There were some recent cuts and bruises elsewhere— evidence that Castiel’s grace was weakened— but the stretch of skin beneath Dean’s hands was unaffected by their reckless lifestyle, and he was grateful. It was a small part of Castiel, but Dean didn’t have to feel the guilt of causing the angel pain when he looked at it.

The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of morning sun found its way through the cracks, and Castiel had his head buried in his pillow in an apparent effort to hide his face from the light. As much as Dean would like to close the gap so Castiel would uncurl from his position, he couldn’t find it within himself to leave the comfort and warmth of their bed to do it. So instead, he admired the view. He couldn’t see the face he’d fallen in love with, but the absolute mess that had become of Castiel’s hair as he’d slept still brought a smile to his face. It was one of the things he loved most about the angel needing to sleep now. 

Lately, Castiel had taken to forcing it tame. The longer he’d spent on earth, the more he worried at its state, but when he crawled out of bed it was in chaos again. It was more reminiscent of the very first time Dean had seen him: a wild mess that had declared the man sporting it didn’t care.

Of course, back then Castiel really hadn’t cared. His body had been just a vessel. He healed the stab wounds and maintained cleanliness, but certainly hadn’t given a thought to the aesthetics. However, the longer he’d had the same vessel, the more he’d thought of it as his own. It was clear in the way he began taking care of more than just the blood and cuts through his clothing, and the way he’d taken to taming the bed-head he’d sported.

Castiel was a different story when he first woke up. When he couldn’t see himself in the mirror, it was easy for him to forget that sleep made his hair a mess. It was easy for him to forget his teeth no longer cleaned themselves, and he would give his kisses unabashedly, morning breath and all. The not-quite-angel that Dean woke up to every morning now was his favorite version of them all.

Dean ran his hands between the mountains of Castiel’s shoulders, and couldn’t help but admire the definition. 

When Castiel had been full angel, he’d always kept the vessel the way he’d found it. The wounds and broken bones were healed back to what Castiel claimed was their original state. But Dean couldn’t bring himself to believe that— mostly because Jimmy had been some kind of salesman. And Dean couldn’t imagine how he could have ended up with the shoulders Castiel carried around.

The muscles were too large, too defined. Dean imagined that they were the result of carrying around invisible wings for years. Castiel had always claimed they were on another plane of existence, and his wings couldn’t affect this plane at all. But Dean had his doubts. A man’s back didn’t look the way Castiel’s did with no effort at all.

Dean traced the dips between the blades where he imagined Castiel’s wings would be.

He’d been told that the angel’s wings had been damaged in the fall. Castiel said he was glad Dean couldn’t see them in their current state, but Dean knew he would probably be just as impressed as he had been the first time he’d seen the shadows of them in that barn so long ago. He pressed a kiss to the spot in silent apology for all the things Castiel had been forced to endure.

The body beside him began to stir, and instead of pulling back and hiding his adoration, he allowed himself to get caught.

“Why are you up so early?” Castiel’s voice was rough with sleep, another of the many things Dean loved about his angel in the morning.

“It’s not really that early, anymore. Sam will probably be here any minute to yell at us for not being ready to go yet.”

Castiel groaned and turned his face further into the pillow, rubbing against it in a way that was entirely too kittenish for Dean’s health. When he resettled, he turned his head toward Dean, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he squinted up at him. “Why did you let me sleep so late then?”

“Payback.”

Castiel’s eyebrows knitted together as he apparently tried to work that one out. Dean didn’t leave it hanging long. “For all the times I caught you watching me sleep.”

Castiel’s face smoothed into amusement. “I always did like you better when you couldn’t talk back.”

Dean couldn’t help his mouth dropping open. It was still surprising when Castiel said things like that, even though Dean knew he was partially responsible for the development.

Castiel’s grin grew wider the longer it took for Dean to find a response.

“And here I was thinking about how sweet you looked while you were sleeping!” Dean grumbled.

“You think I look sweet?”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Castiel hummed and moved to roll closer, burying his face into the crook of Dean’s supporting arm instead. Dean could feel the smile still on Castiel’s face as it was pressed into his bicep. 

Castiel kissed the spot as his smile faded, and Dean responded with a kiss to the top of his head.

“Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to get up. I’d like to at least have pants on before Sam gets here.”

Castiel moved back just far enough that Dean could leave the bed. He managed to swing his legs over the edge before Castiel’s arms wrapped around his middle, and the gesture was forced into a stall.

“Check-out isn’t until noon. Just text him, and tell him we’re getting a late start.”

Dean couldn’t help the smile that split his face as the arms tightened around him. Castiel acted as though he would be denied when he knew very well Dean would not be able to refuse laying in bed a little longer. They had zero plans today, other than the drive back to the bunker. If Castiel wanted to laze around a while longer, Dean wasn’t going to refuse him.

“Alright, Cas. I’ll text him.”

He reached for his phone on the nightstand, content with the idea of a late start if it meant being wrapped up in the warmth of his lover for a little longer.

He got the text sent off and didn’t bother to wait for a response. Sam might not like the idea, but he’d already learned his lesson when it came to showing up earlier than expected.

The arms around him loosened as he turned his attention back to Castiel, and he was allowed to curl into the space he’d vacated.

Castiel fitted himself to Dean’s side as soon as he was settled, wrapping around Dean as if he were the angel’s personal pillow. Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, but he was content to hold Castiel while he napped on.

That is, until he felt a lazy hand creep slowly up his thigh.

“How much time do we have?” Castiel asked him, innocently, as if his hand wasn’t making its way into dangerous territory.

Dean had no idea how much time they had. “We can make it work.”


End file.
